Dusk till Dawn
by Saint-Olga
Summary: Logan, Remy and romance...


Author's note:Logan and Remy are Marvel's ::sobs:: If you want to archive this short story, e-mail me where it is on saint-olga@yandex.ru.   
  
Mez, dear, thanks you *very* much for betaing this!   
  
  
  
Dusk till Dawn  
  
by Russian_Girl  
  
  
  
  
*** Logan ***  
  
  
The evening beach. The weather is good, it was clear and sunny forthe whole day, yet the waves break by the shore heavily.  
  
The dusk falls. Only a narrow line of golden and pale rose is still where the sky and the ocean meet each other. It paints the solitary rock with it's colors. And the solitary figure on the top of the rock is painted with golden and rose, too. I smell the aroma of the ocean, fresh and salty. I like this smell. But I like the smell of the man on the rock much more. It's warm and fresh at the same time, and spicy and sweet... the only name for this unique scent is:   
"Remy".  
  
He stands there, watching the ocean, this wild and free element, and the cold wind plays with his hair (this sentence was great :). I want to be the wind. I want to play with his hair, to caress his skin, to kiss his lips... To do all the things I dared to dream of during all those lonely nights after I met him.  
  
I admire him as he stands on the rock. He looks just another part of the scenery, just like he is created for this place. I saw him in the battle - he looks created for fighting. But I saw him in the moments of peace - and he looks created for peace as well. I wish I could see if he is created for love. I know he is, yet I want to make certain for myself. But I'm afraid I'm not worthy of it...  
  
He isn't a man, he just can't be. Maybe he is an angel - a fallen angel doomed to live on the Earth, among people who aren't worthy to look at him. Maybe he is a devil - a devil who ran away from Hell only to find a much worse one. Angel or devil - I love him anyway.   
  
I move to the rock. Remy doesn't notice me until I can reach him with a hand. I want to call him by his name but the old habit is faster than me.  
  
"Gumbo?"  
  
He turns to me. The setting sun sends the last rays to him, and I see a few golden strands in his hair and the golden sparks near the red flames in the deep blackness of his strange, beautiful eyes.  
  
"Logan? What're y' doin' here homme?"  
  
"Lookin' fer ya." I smell his irritation.  
  
"Why?" he asks bitterly. "De fearless X-Men don' have anybody t' put blame on? Or just don' wan' t' do some dirty work and wan' Gambit t' do it? Not dis time. Tell dem Gambit needs some rest 'fore goin' t' anoder 'only y' can do it Gambit' mission."  
  
"Nah... Remy, I jus' found out that all those nigh' bike rides, pool games an' beer parties are rather dull without one redheaded crazy Cajun."  
  
He grins.  
"Ha, honestly speakin', I missed dose t'ings... a bit."  
  
The first stars burn in the dark sky. One of them falls suddenly, leaving a bright shining track. Remy follows it with his gaze and sighs.  
  
"Do y' believe in wishin' on stars?" he asks unexpectedly.  
  
"Yeah, Remy." He is surprised.  
  
"Why do y' call me 'Remy', homme? It's not y'r style."  
  
"I call ya so, Remy, 'cause... Wanna know what I wished on this star?"  
  
He looks startled.  
  
"I wished ta spend the rest 'f my life, if it would be long 'r short, jus' knowin' that ya're somewhere on th' Earth. That ya're breathin', walkin', playin' cards, speakin' Froggy, doin' this poker face 'f yours... livin'."  
  
While I'm speaking his eyes grow wider. When I stop he says without sound, with his lips only, "Why?"  
  
"'Cause I love ya."  
  
Even in my best dreams his lips weren't so sweet.  
  
  
*** Remy ***  
  
The sky is nacreous-blue, and the ocean is azure with the rare silver-white horses. The wet wind brings us salt spray. We are lying on the cool sand of the beach, my coat as a blanket, his shirt as a quilt. My head rests on his wide chest, and his hands are wrapped around me as well as my hands - around him.  
  
My dreams have come true. This man I could hardly imagine in my embrace is here now. He plays with my hair, he caresses my skin, he kisses me as tender as the wind. He says he loves me. He loves me! I never dared to think he could love me, although he was always in my thoughts, ever since our first meeting. When he was around I could hardly do anything except watch him. He is an embodiment of strength, inborn fighter, dangerous, frightening... attractive. But I saw him   
different once. His eyes were shut, and the dreamy smile was on his lips. He was as peaceful as a resting animal, ready to jump up and enjoying every moment of his rest.  
  
I dreamt to share these minutes of peace with him, to forget everything and just look into his eyes where there is not the usual coldness of steel but... I thought there had to be blue warmth of sunny sky. But I was afraid. I wasn't worthy of him. My past crimes chased me. All the people he called his family and whom I wanted to be mine as well, would blame me for them... and did in the   
end. They would blame him, too, if I dared to pretend on his love. But he loves me. He said that they would never blame me again, and nobody will, because he would be with me. And all my fears went away. His heat burned them - the heat of his body, the heat of his soul. They say he is a killing machine. They say he is a beast. They say he is a devil. He isn't any of them - and he is all three at once, and also the man I love. He is just... Logan.   
  
The first ray of the rising sun blinds me for a second, and I blink. My lashes tickle his skin, and I hear the soft low chuckle that begins deep inside his chest. His firm hand traces my cheekbone lightly, and I raise my head to look into his eyes. They aren't steel-blue as I used to see them. They aren't sunny-sky-blue as I saw them in my dreams. They are like this early morning sky, silver-blue with rare golden sparks.  
  
"Logan, cher," I whisper, and fear touches my soul: what if he pushes me away and leaves me here alone again? What if this night was just a sweet dream?  
  
But he smiles lovingly.  
  
"Darlin'?"  
  
"I like de way it sounds," I smile him back. "Cher... wan' t' know what I wished on dat star?"  
  
"Yeah Rem... darlin'"  
  
"I wished I fell into sleep in de evening and woke up in de morningwid my head on y'r chest, listenin' t' y'r heartbeatin'..."  
  
He knows I speak the truth. And I know that he knows. But I see the surprise in his eyes, and he asks me, "Why?"  
  
"'Cause I love y'," I whisper, and his lips - I imagined their taste so often but never guessed right - touch my own gently.  
  
The dawn comes. 


End file.
